The Valley of Fear eBook

It was nearly midnight, and the street was deserted
save for one or two revellers upon their way home.
The party crossed the road, and, pushing open the
door of the newspaper office, Baldwin and his men
rushed in and up the stair which faced them.
McMurdo and another remained below. From the
room above came a shout, a cry for help, and then
the sound of trampling feet and of falling chairs.
An instant later a gray-haired man rushed out on the
landing.

He was seized before he could get farther, and his
spectacles came tinkling down to McMurdo’s feet.
There was a thud and a groan. He was on his
face, and half a dozen sticks were clattering together
as they fell upon him. He writhed, and his long,
thin limbs quivered under the blows. The others
ceased at last; but Baldwin, his cruel face set in
an infernal smile, was hacking at the man’s
head, which he vainly endeavoured to defend with his
arms. His white hair was dabbled with patches
of blood. Baldwin was still stooping over his
victim, putting in a short, vicious blow whenever
he could see a part exposed, when McMurdo dashed up
the stair and pushed him back.

“You’ll kill the man,” said he.
“Drop it!”

Baldwin looked at him in amazement. “Curse
you!” he cried. “Who are you to
interfere—­you that are new to the lodge?
Stand back!” He raised his stick; but McMurdo
had whipped his pistol out of his pocket.

“Stand back yourself!” he cried.
“I’ll blow your face in if you lay a
hand on me. As to the lodge, wasn’t it
the order of the Bodymaster that the man was not to
be killed—­and what are you doing but killing
him?”

“It’s truth he says,” remarked one
of the men.

“By Gar! you’d best hurry yourselves!”
cried the man below. “The windows are
all lighting up, and you’ll have the whole town
here inside of five minutes.”

There was indeed the sound of shouting in the street,
and a little group of compositors and pressmen was
forming in the hall below and nerving itself to action.
Leaving the limp and motionless body of the editor
at the head of the stair, the criminals rushed down
and made their way swiftly along the street.
Having reached the Union House, some of them mixed
with the crowd in McGinty’s saloon, whispering
across the bar to the Boss that the job had been well
carried through. Others, and among them McMurdo,
broke away into side streets, and so by devious paths
to their own homes.

Chapter 4 — The Valley of Fear

When McMurdo awoke next morning he had good reason
to remember his initiation into the lodge. His
head ached with the effect of the drink, and his arm,
where he had been branded, was hot and swollen.
Having his own peculiar source of income, he was
irregular in his attendance at his work; so he had
a late breakfast, and remained at home for the morning
writing a long letter to a friend. Afterwards
he read the Daily Herald. In a special column
put in at the last moment he read: